


Jeepers Creepers

by oh_simone



Series: the secret real lives of real secret agents [3]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Banter, Case Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9907313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_simone/pseuds/oh_simone
Summary: A case for Peggy and the boys forces them to ponder that age-old question: "Where'd you get those eyes?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, this was about two years in the writing! It fits in that weird place of "started this post-season 1, but pre-season 2 so everything's shafted now" but in any case, it takes place in the world of **vinegar and cellophane** , though you needn't read that first.  
> Thanks to Minty for feedbacking, and being especially patient when I more or less told her to ignore the plot, but how is the banter? On that note, be warned that there is some hand-wavey science-y mumbo-jumbo.  
> I highly recommend listening to Louis Armstrong's [Jeepers Creepers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jbZrocd6vs) to get a sense where all this originated. Yes, I did take the song as a literal prompt. Now you know.

It was hot.

No, not just hot.

_Steaming_.

Peggy swore she could see the moisture on her skin rising off her skin, in little drifts of moist, wavering steam. The ceiling fans were rotating, but doing nothing more than shoving warm air around the stuffy room, which felt almost as bad as dead heat. She’d tried fanning herself with the newspaper (“Cabinet in Town for UN Summit!”) but it only made her hotter. The entire office was silent, though that was but a small mercy. Most folks had escaped for the day, off to Coney Island or Long Island with their kids, and Peggy envied them furiously. The only other person still around was Jack, and that was because he had a call with the senator in ten minutes. And because it was simply a call (the senator, like any other sane person of comfortable means, had retreated to the Poconos with his family for the week), he had clearly left his dignity at the door and was lying under the desk, top button undone and sleeves rolled up, a handkerchief over his face. Peggy wasn’t sure how that was any better—it seemed more likely to result in suffocation, but from the gentle snoring emanating from his general direction, she supposed he was fine. She allowed herself another moment to direct judgmental scrutiny at him before sighing and wrenching her attention back to the dull report she needed to wrap up before she could leave.

The past few weeks had been slow—even the most impassioned criminal masterminds didn’t seem able to rouse themselves from the sluggish lassitude that had blanketed the city during this unrelenting heat wave. No, it was only Peggy, in her lightest cotton voile dress that felt sodden all down her back and Jack, who had clearly lost control of his life, as well as his tie. Wedged into the window behind her was the office’s lone air conditioning unit. It had, fittingly, overheated and blew the fuse three days ago, and no one could be bothered to haul it down to a repair shop. Peggy jabbed viciously at the typewriter and decided that that was what they needed, an in-house maintenance man (or woman, for that matter) with just high enough security clearance to enter a secret agency and fix things.

Fortunately, the appalling inanity of her own thoughts scattered when the phone shrilled to life, shockingly loud in the muggy air. From Jack’s office, there was a thunk, and then the slow sounds of escalating chaos as he smacked into the table, grasped his chair, and brought it crashing down beside him. Peggy listened to his scrambling with deep satisfaction before delicately picking up her handset.

“It’s for me, Jack,” she called out sweetly. “Peggy Carter speaking.”

“Agent Carter, I have Colonel Phillips on the line for you,” said the cheery voice on the other end. Peggy felt her eyebrows rise briefly in surprise. In the doorway, Jack had managed to extricate himself from his office furniture to lean against the door frame, rubbing at the lump on his head.

“Please, put him through,” Peggy said, and shrugged when Jack tried to communicate with her via eyebrow movement. He threw up his arms in exasperation, then lunged for his own phone when it began ringing, barely managing to kick his office door closed behind him.

“Carter,” Phillips greeted curtly.

“Colonel,” Peggy replied in kind. “What can I do for you?”

“You like the odd ones, don’t you,” he said gruffly. “I got one for you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“A case, Carter. A strange one..”

“Just the way I like them, sir,” she replied without missing a beat. He filled her in on the details and she jotted them down on a notepad.

“Oh, and,” he added, just before she could hang up. “Bring those two agents of yours as well. If you think they’re up for it.”

Peggy glanced up at Jack through his office window. He was sprawled in his chair, head tipped back over his seatback and phone pressed to an ear, fanning himself with the latest expense report. He looked like a beached sea creature about to expire.

“I’m sure they are, sir,” she agreed blandly.

 

“You know,” Daniel said, “I was two stops away from the beach. Two. I was with a lovely gal, who’d packed us a very excellent picnic lunch and was ready and willing to fan me and feed me peeled grapes for the rest of the day. And then the train comes to a screeching halt. And the conductor comes into the car, and tells me to get off the car, like I'm some common criminal.” He glared at Jack, who was driving, then at Peggy in the passenger seat before collapsing into the backseat. “A perfect afternoon, my friends, gone.”

“Aw, Danny-boy, your momma’ll still love ya,” Jack grinned. “Just bring her some flowers and give flash her that classic Sousa smile, and you’ll be aces.”

“Go to hell, Thompson,” Daniel shot back, and crossed his arms sulkily. “I haven’t seen my Ma since Christmas, and I’ve only got until Saturday with her before she goes to my brother’s in Pittsburgh. Do you know what she puts in her chicken salad? No, because it’s a secret that she will take to her grave, and I swear if this case is the reason I’ll go without it for another half a year, I will be far from collegial for just as long.”

“I apologize, Daniel,” Peggy said, hiding her smile. “This case came down from rather up high, and is a bit of a favor to an old friend.” She ignored Jack, who was exaggeratedly mouthing COLONEL PHILLIPS in the rearview mirror. “He assured me there weren’t any dead bodies involved, at least.”

“Yeah, bet you wouldn’t be able to eat any of Mama Sousa’s chicken salad if that was the case,” Jack added.

“I was gonna bring you some,” Daniel told him.

“You were?”

“Nah.”

Jack scowled. “I thought we were friends, Sousa.”

“Why on earth would you think that?” Daniel asked, mystified.

“Boys,” Peggy cut in. “Is anyone actually interested in what we’re off to see?”

“Might as well hear it,” Daniel sighed.

They were crossing into Harlem now, Central Park dropping away behind them as Jack steered the car north.

"Colonel Phillips got a call from the local captain of the precinct," Peggy said. "Apparently, a few patrolmen were making their rounds when they stumbled upon a couple suspicious characters exchanging a box, which they thought might’ve been, oh, drugs, secrets, bombs.” Peggy wrinkled her knows. “Horribly presumptuous, I suppose.”

“Also coulda been all three: a secret bomb of LSD...” Jack piped in, and she rolled her eyes.

“In any case, when the officers approached, they split in opposite directions. Neither of them was caught, but one of the officers did stumble on the item they’d exchanged. Its contents were apparently alarming enough to warrant a call to a higher level.”

"I'm guessing it wasn't money," Daniel commented wryly.

"No currency inside," she agreed, and added mildly, "but there was a pair of eyes."

 

Peggy didn't say anymore, partly because she wasn't sure what exactly Phillips had meant either. It was best to do away with speculation, for now at least.

"What kind of eyes?" Daniel asked with the sort of morbid fascination of someone who’d seen his own leg sawn off and was now wondering how losing an eye compared, traumatically speaking. "And they must have been pretty fresh, if they were recognizable in this heat."

"This?" Jack cut him off with a raised eyebrow. "This is exactly why I never have anything to say to my parents at Thanksgiving." He pulled up alongside the police precinct and stuck the provisionary SHIELD tag on the dash. As they climbed out of the car, he fished a spare tie out of his pocket, already knotted, and looped it around his head. Peggy followed him inside, wiping her forehead discreetly with a handkerchief. This heat was truly abominable. At least Daniel was still in light, casual linens, looking either utterly unprofessional or hopelessly lost, but also far more comfortable than anyone else on the block.

Jack was already being greeted by a broad-shouldered black man in a crisp police captain uniform and a grim mouth that dragged at the corners. Peggy was relieved to see the light of familiarity in his eyes when she approached.

"Agent Carter," he greeted. "Good to see you again."

"Captain Davis, how do you do," she replied with a smile. "Captain Davis was among the security officers for the New York SSR office during the war."

“Ah, before our time,” Jack quipped, shaking his hand and introducing himself and Daniel.

“Thanks for coming up tonight,” Davis said as he led them to his office. It was slightly cooler inside, aided by a south-facing window and a small electric fan in the corner. He asked a secretary to bring them some water before closing the door.

“Has the colonel told you anything about the case yet?”

“Just the bare details, the box of eyes and how they were found,” Peggy said. “He didn’t say why he thought it might be a case for SHIELD, rather than your homicide detectives.”

Davis nodded curtly and looked grimmer. “Right.” He circled around to his desk and plucked a rectangular metal box from his drawer, then with a moment of pause, plunked it down before the three of them. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Daniel draw closer, his crutch creaking with the shift of his weight. Jack, on the other hand, leaned away in the opposite direction.

“It’s mighty odd,” Davis warned, and before anyone else could say anything, he flipped the lid open.

Nestled inside were two clear glass cylinders, filled with a transparent liquid and capped on both ends by dull steel. Floating at the center of each tube was what looked remarkably like a human eyeball.

“May I?” Peggy murmured, and when Davis inclined his head, she plucked up one of the tubes and held it up for a better look.

“Looks healthy,” Daniel commented. It was true; the sclera was clear of ruddy redness or jaundice. Thin red blood vessels webbed and massed at the back, but they resolved in a smooth, red nub where an optical nerve would have connected.

“So what’s so unusual about it? For all we know, could be some medical student’s homework,” Jack suggested as Peggy rotated the tube so that the iris drifted into view.

“Or maybe just a gruesome pervert—Good _Lord_!” She startled and almost fumbled the tube.

Suspended inside the tube, the eyeball eyed them back, and as the three of them leaned in in shock, the pupil widened, then shrank to a pinpoint, leaving behind a light brown, nearly golden iris.

"Well, now I see what the fuss is all about," Daniel volunteered after an especially fraught moment as the eyeball, finding itself drifting to the left, still somehow kept eye contact.

"Is it real?" Jack asked. His expression screamed discomfort, though he gamely bent closer for a better look. "Maybe it's a robotic do-dad, like the stuff Stark builds. Hey, Sousa, if we find this guy, maybe he can build you a new leg."

"And a new face for you," Daniel shot back. Jack's grin quickly slid off his face though as the eye twitched back and forth between him and Daniel, as if tracking their conversation.

"This is remarkable," Peggy murmured, watching as the pupil grew and shrank to focus on her. "Captain Davis, you were quite right in calling this in."

"Just glad somebody is willing to take that off our hands," the captain said, looking at the two eyeballs with mild resentment. “I consider myself pretty level-headed, but this case just gives me the willies."

"I assure you, you’re not the only one," Peggy said with a sly look at Jack, who scowled, but shifted away from the containers nevertheless.

 

By the time they returned to the provisionary SHIELD offices, conveniently operating out of the old SSR building, evening had truly fallen, muggy, sweat-warm, but marginally cooler. On account of Daniel having to miss his mother's beach picnic, Jack swung by the East Village and dropped him off at his apartment so he could at least take the poor woman to dinner.  Peggy and Jack both having skipped lunch due to the heat, they passed the office and headed by the automat instead. At this time of day, it was practically empty; they slid into a corner booth, Peggy wincing as the sticky, over-warm vinyl seats immediately glued to the back of her thighs and knees. The fan overhead was making a mighty effort and plenty of noise, but there was still some result left to be desired. Jack grabbed a couple sandwiches and slid one across the table to her.

Angie slunk up and practically molded herself to the top of the booth.

"Hiya English, " she greeted. The heat seemed to have worked its magic on her usually irrepressible nature as well—her curls were dispirited, and she looked as limp as a rag doll. “Coffee?”

“Lemonade, perhaps,” Peggy said.

“Wise choice,” Angie agreed, and unpeeled herself from the booth. She returned soon enough with two tall glasses that clinked with ice. Jack nearly inhaled half the glass in one go. “What are you two doing at work? If we were at home, you’d find me tucked inside the icebox,” she told Peggy.

“Friday late shift, we drew the short straw,” Peggy shrugged.

“Me too,” Angie commiserated, and melted off to attend to another table.

“So, where do we even start with this?” Jack said, after he’d sucked up the rest of the glass, and was now stirring the ice cubes, willing them to melt into ice water.

“I suppose we call up Doobin, and have him run some tests? See if it really is organic, or if it’s even human.”

Jack made a face. “I guess it could be cows. It’s a similar enough size.”

Peggy gave him a look.

“My granddad had a dairy farm in Pennsylvania, alright? There were a lot of cows,” he said. “Besides, even if we did all that, I don’t see where the crime lies, aside from giving me the willies,” he mused.

“How about the body missing those eyes?” she suggested, and Jack shuddered.

“Let’s not even joke about it.”

“Well, it does stand to reason,” she pointed out logically. “If the eyes are biological in nature and lively to boot, the body has a healthy chance of it as well. The alternative doesn’t make any sense.”

“Alright, if we’re thinking along those lines,” Jack shot back, “If these eyes are real, and even if they’re… mechanical. Are they still doing what eyes… do? Can they still see, even without a- a head, or a brain?”

“And if it is still able to capture visual information, then who is receiving those images,” Peggy agreed. They stared at each other for a long, unblinking moment before simultaneously scrambling out of the booth.

“Leaving already?” Angie called forlornly.

“Sorry, Angie, I’ll see you later,” Peggy called over her shoulder. Jack just raced for the car, muttering, “What’s it looking at, what’s it _looking at_.”

 

“Alright,” Jack said, crossing his arms. They had decided to pow-wow in the basement labs, where the temperature was a little more bearable than the upstairs office. It was empty of course, so they didn’t even need to moderate their voices. Or, in the case of Jack, refrain from pacing the floor, and rifling through drawers. “This might not even work, and then what do we do?”

“Must you crack the egg before the chick is born, Jack? We’ll think of something else then,” Peggy replied, fiddling with the lens of their jerry-rigged fundus camera.  

“First of all, what kind of metaphor was that? And second,” he emerged from the supply cabinet with a pair of beaker tongs. “Found ‘em.”

Peggy marched back and snatched it from his fingers. “Your gamgam had cows, my father kept chickens in the yard.”

“And hey, you know what you both have?” the cheery voice of Howard Stark piped in from the intercom. “Me.” He was in Washington DC at the moment, but had obligingly taken the call and walked them through setting up the camera. “Alright, now all you’ve got to do is get the iris lined up with the mark on the lens and take the pictures. Voila! The inside of your mysterious eye. Say, Jarvis, ya think I should go into ophthalmology?”

“I wouldn’t dare imagine it, sir,” Jarvis replied, dry as the Sahara, and Howard laughed good-naturedly.

“I’ll stick to cameras,” he agreed. “You know, this takes me back to the early SI days. Just me and R&D and building spy cameras out of broken carnival glass and chewing gum.”

“If I recall, sir, that was the night you and Dr. Samson polished off an entire bottle of Lagavulin and invented the self-igniting waffle-iron instead.”

“Huh, yeah, that’s right. What were we thinking?”

“About breakfast, I presume,” Jarvis said blandly

“I think we got it from here, Howard,” Peggy said, lips twitching. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime, Pegs. Agent Thompson, it was good to hear from you. Keep me updated on those missing peepers. Heck, this case sounds like it deserves the ol’ Stark pizzazz for the silver screen.”

“Don’t you dare, you’ve got work to do; we’re all counting on you,” Peggy said firmly. “Goodbye, Howard, Mr. Jarvis.” Jack hung up obligingly.

The eyes bobbed gently in their canisters.

“Well then,” Peggy said, “Let’s give this a go.”

“For all the chores I ran for my pops, I never had to touch a single eyeball,” Jack grunted as he twisted at the top of one of the canisters. It came loose in stuttering squeaks, but finally unscrewed fully. He set the lid aside then carefully dipped the tongs into the clear, viscous fluid and gently plucked the eyeball from its suspended position. He held it aloft, dripping, and looked wry. “I think he might actually be proud of me if he saw this.”

“What an odd thing to say,” Peggy said, and hoisted the camera into position.

They photographed the two eyes and returned the eyes to their containers, and back in the boxes. Then, they took turns photographing each other’s eyes through the camera, before Peggy slipped into the darkened storage closet to roll up the film for processing. She emerged with the film canister and handed it off to Jack.

“Developing fluid gives me hives,” she told him

Jack gave her, then the film canister, a resentful look.

“I can’t wait until Greeley comes in for his shift,” he sighed, and headed into the dark room in the back of B Lab.

“Only another hour,” Peggy agreed, trailing him into the red-lit space and closing the door behind them. “I somehow doubt we’ll wrap this one up before then.”

“And then I’m heading back and not thinking about this,” he waggled the film, “for a solid 24 hours.”

 

Jack finished rinsing the film and Peggy, wielding scissors and clothespins, helped hang the strips of negatives up to dry. They cleaned up as best they could and decided to leave the printmaking to Greeley, who would probably appreciate an excuse to stay in the dark room anyways. It smelled unbearably of stale chemicals, but was pleasantly cool. They left the darkroom, Jack already burying yawns into his palm. Peggy penned a brief note to Greeley and left it on his desk in the main bullpen, and Jack waved her off, saying that he’d wait for Greeley to arrive, much to her relief; she was so looking forward to Mrs. Jarvis’ home-churned ice cream, sitting pretty in the Stark townhouse’s refrigerator. Which was when the phone on the wall rang and Georgia, the operator on duty out front, informed them that Agent Sousa was ringing from the hospital.

 

“Daniel!”

The man glanced up at them from where he was slumped in a corner seat of the hospital waiting room, and raised a hand placating. “I’m fine, you two.” His words did nothing to slow the speed at which they approached him.

“ _Are_ you?” Jack replied with heavy skepticism, his mouth was set in an unhappy line.

“What happened?” Peggy asked. She looked over him quickly and stared at the bandages on his forehead with dismay.

“Slipped. There was an open fire hydrant near Tompkins Square, and I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have.” He waggled his right arm, which was also wrapped in thick bandages. His sleeves were notably stained and wrinkled from his fall. “Sprained my wrist, knocked my head. Some well-meaning lady called for an ambulance before I could convince her not to.”

“Your ma okay?” Jack asked, jaw set and tilted at a downward angle.

“She’s fine—I saw her off at her sister’s after dinner. I was already headed back,” Daniel said. Jack nodded curtly, before trotting off down the corridor to speak with the nurse on duty.

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright, mostly,” Peggy told him, and patted his shoulder, then looked around, frowning. “Although, I’m a little concerned why they’ve left you in the lobby like this. Were there no beds available?” They were on the fifth floor, which housed the office for a SHIELD-cleared doctor, as well as several in-patient rooms. Tonight however, the halls were oddly quiet and the waiting room was surprisingly sparse. A well-dressed woman with tired, worried eyes flipped listlessly through a _Life_ magazine two months out of date and bored teenager slumped in his seat, snapping gum at the ceiling. It was so empty, in fact, that when Peggy and Jack rushed in, a passing doctor had done a double take and watched them suspiciously as they’d beelined for Daniel. Other than that, there was the nurse on duty and two uniformed guards who’d ambled up to check their badges.

“Yeah, you know,” Daniel said, “Dr. Zimm happened to be heading out when I got here and brought me up himself; otherwise, they were routing all incoming to urgent care.”

“It’s because they got a bigwig in house,” Jack said as he rejoined them. He handed Daniel a roll of paperwork. “They’ve cleared and locked down the entire floor. You’re alright since you have some level of security clearance, but I don’t think they want us hanging around longer than absolutely necessary.”

“Oh?” Peggy said as they levered Daniel to his feet. “Did you find out who?”

Jack rolled his eyes at her as he nabbed Daniel’s crumpled jacket from the seat back and followed them out. “Give me a little credit, Marge. Of course I did. And now, because I do know, we should get gone before the natives get restless.” He jerked his chin over at the security guards, who were eyeing them with little friendliness.

“What a horribly inefficient use of hospital resources,” Peggy scoffed as they piled into the elevator. “Is this mystery civil servant paying for all this himself, or is it coming out of my taxes?”

“I imagine the answer wouldn’t please you either way,” Jack said dryly. “The patient is the Secretary of Defense, and he’s going under the knife in the morning. I think even you’d agree that’s someone worth pulling out the stops for.”

Peggy harrumphed and rolled her eyes.

They exited into the muggy summer night and made their way down the street to the car, parked around the corner. Even at the late hour, ten gone midnight, the sidewalk still radiated warmth. Peggy’s curls were sticking to her neck again after the short walk. They piled into the car and Jack pulled out onto the streets.

“Listen, I’m gonna swing by the office, but you guys stay in the car, I’ll only be a few,” Jack said. Peggy sighed wearily, and Daniel was already dozing in the back. The drive back was short and faster without the usual crush of cars and pedestrians. Jack made use of the wide main avenue, weaving between the late-night cabs and cars with the ease of long practice. He parked across the street from the Bell office and hopped out, while Peggy rolled the windows down and fanned herself with Daniel’s pain prescription. Behind her, Daniel snored gently. It was almost soothing, Peggy thought, with a swell of fondness. With the night breeze finally cooling the air in the car, she was nearly comfortable enough to drift off herself. The world beyond the car window was dreamy in the hazy light of streetlamps and shadows; the thick soupy dampness of the air promised summer storms soon, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps next week.

Jack emerged from the Bell office, sleeves rolled up and jacket slung over one shoulder, his briefcase swinging from his hand. He glanced casually down the one-way street and made to cross, and then Peggy’s heart nearly stopped in her chest because he stepped off the curb, head turned to the right, just as a black car roared towards him from the wrong direction.

“Jack!” Peggy shouted, scrabbling for the door and jolting Daniel awake.

The street light glinted off of Jack’s hair as he wrenched himself backward. The black car screeched to a stop, blocking Peggy’s view of him, though doing nothing to muffle the sounds of his outraged yelp and scuffling. She couldn’t make out any distinguishing features of the car’s driver before the black car’s tires squealed against the pavement and rocketed the car onwards. Peggy charged into the street, pulling her revolver from its holster and taking aim at the black car, leveling off two shots into the rear window. The car wavered wildly, but continued speeding ahead, rounding the next corner and disappearing from sight. She felt briefly torn about whether or not to give chase, but the heartfelt swearing from the curb drew her attention.

“Aw, for Christ’s sake,” Jack sighed as Peggy and Daniel joined him. He was still splayed on the ground, papers from his briefcase scattered all around them. “They couldn’t have waited until morning?”

“Apparently not,” Peggy said, and helped him to his feet. “Whoever that was, they must be desperate—an attack in broad—well, in public, and in easy view of witnesses.”

“I’ll say,” Daniel said. “They took your briefcase, Jack. If you’ve got any confidential office memos in there, we got a bigger problem on our hands than plain assault.”

Jack swore and rubbed his face. “For crying out loud. Alright, I’m locking up the car and then we’re going inside to salvage this train wreck of a day.”

 

Junior agent Ennis Greeley, bless the man, had the prints done by the time they made their way up into the offices.

“Like no eyes I’ve ever seen,” Greeley said, and Peggy had seen him suck on fish eyes with relish at enough company luncheons that she believed him. He snapped his gum and jabbed at the print, careful not to touch the still-wet surface. “For one thing, it’s not so much an entire eyeball—see, that’s more a mount than anything, it’s made of some sort of rubber… silicone, maybe. It looks like the interesting stuff is all in the lenses. See, that shadow there? Looks like that boxy shape behind the iris? That’s definitely some sort of transmitter.”

Daniel looked up from where he was sitting in Doobin’s chair, finger tapping idly along his bandaged wrist. “Like… a radio? But instead of sending audio, its purpose is to… what, send images? Like a television set?”

“But there’s no wiring,” Jack pointed out.

Peggy pointed at the prints. “It’s not like this is any technology we’ve ever seen before.”

Jack gave her a thoroughly disgruntled look.

“Actually, it’s not that difficult in theory,” Greeley said. “What you see on a television is basically light patterns sent via radio waves. So it’s not so much the technology that’s impressive, but the size of this thing. To make it wireless and small and compact enough to fit in a sphere the size of a human eye is some technological triumph. And if whoever rustled this up can also somehow hook it into human biology?” he whistled. “We got a real Dr. Frankenstein on our hands. I’ve just about hit my limits on knowledge of engineering, so I’m going to head back up to the pen. Good luck, gents, Carter.” Greeley waved amiably as he wandered out of the lab.

With a sigh, Jack hoisted himself up onto Doobin’s desk, displacing a stack of manila folders. At his knee, Daniel elbowed him, probably out of pure habit rather than true hostility, then found that his lap was the perfect height to rest his injured wrist. 

“So we’ve got an all-seeing eye, and some folks so desperate to retrieve it that they tried to take out a known government agent in the middle of the street,” Daniel said, ticking off his fingers on his good hand. “If that’s the case, I’m left with only two questions.”

“Only?” Jack said dryly.

“One: how’d they end up on a street corner in Harlem, and two: what—or, I guess, who’re they for?”

“I’m thinking surprise eye replacement isn’t easy to pull off,” Jack said slowly, brow furrowing. “And you wouldn’t waste this sort of technology on just anyone.”

“So, our target is someone important, with a presumably high level of clearance,” Peggy mused.

“And someone who wouldn’t care if his eyes got gouged out and replaced by a camera?” Daniel added dryly. “Seems a little unlikely.”

Peggy sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple.

Jack snapped his fingers. As his partners stared, a look of dawning comprehension spread over his expression. "Cataract surgery,” he said.

“What?” Daniel asked.

Jack jumped off the table. “Cataract surgery—the Secretary of Defense, at the hospital. That’s what he’s in for, cataracts! They’re going to be cutting into his eyes, he’s going to be under… in twelve hours!”

“And that’s when they’ll switch out his eyes with the mechanical ones,” Peggy said, mind whirling. “If it goes well, they’d be turning the Secretary into the perfect spy. One who doesn’t even realize he is one. It’s horrifying.”

“Christ,” Daniel uttered, looking nauseated. His grip on his cane tightened spasmodically. “The surgeon—they’ve got to be in on this. I’ll call the hospital and get a name.”

“I’ll see if I can get on the phone with secret service,” Jack added tersely, lifting his jacket from the lab table and heading for his office.

“And as for me,” Peggy murmured, looking at the box of eyes thoughtfully, “I’m going to give them an address.”

“Peggy?” Daniel said warily. She smiled toothily and took up the box.

“They’ve got Jack’s briefcase, and we’ve got something of theirs. It wouldn’t hurt to let them think we’re as desperate as they are to get it back.”

 

The hour was absurdly late, but the automat was 24 hours, and Angie was still topping up coffee on the graveyard shift.

“English, I don’t think anyone should be up at this hour without a strong drink in hand,” she said around a yawn, “but I sure appreciate the company.”

“You’re a brick, Angie,” Peggy said, smiling. She’d set the box of eyes on the table in plain view.

“You know, we live in a true-blue townhouse smack in the fancy part of town with a working AC that makes it feel like Christmas in July, and we’re never there,” Angie marveled. “There’s something awful sinful about that.” She smothered another yawn and slumped into the seat across from Peggy, folding her arms on the sticky table surface and sighing deeply. “Easy livin’ ain’t easy, after all.”

Peggy patted her arm sympathetically.

“Hey Pegs, Howie’s always going on and on about his place out in Long Island, right?” Angie asked.

“He’s got a Hamptons beach shack in Montauk,” Peggie agreed, smiling as Angie feigned a dramatic swoon.

“Absolutely _dreamy_ ,” she declared, and stretched her arms high over her head. “I can picture it already, you, me, on the beach layin’ out under those big orange striped umbrellas with our sunglasses on. We’ll let one’a your boys come along so they can fetch us… what’re those fancy Tiki bar cocktails called? Mee-mees?”

“Mai Tais,” Peggy supplied.

Angie snapped her fingers. “That’s the one! Sun, sand, and Mai Tais,” she pronounced with relish. Oh, English, please say yes! This summer’s been a crumb, I haven’t even made it out to Coney Island yet.”

“With my luck, we’ll stumble over a mad plot to assassinate the French ambassador while we’re there,” Peggy warned.

Angie shivered with delight. “Fabulous, I can’t wait.”

“I’ll talk to Howard,” Peggy said with a smile. “I daresay he wouldn’t mind.”

At that moment, the bell over the door jingled, and two white men came in from the street. With a put-upon sigh, Angie drew herself upright and pasted on a bright smile.

Peggy sipped her lemonade and eyed the newcomers in in the reflection on the napkin holder. One man looked like he’d walked off the set of a mobster movie. He was broad and hulking and fit sullenly into a pinstriped suit, topped with an incongruous panama hat. His companion was a whip-thin man with a nervous hunch and a face that was made for haunting the roofs of cathedrals. She’d bet her hat these were the two after the eyes.

Pursing her lips, she whistled sharply. When the two strangers looked up, she waved and gestured to the empty booth across from her. The short, ugly one looked at her with a dawning recognition, mixed with nervous apprehension.

“Hello, boys,” she said. “I think we’re overdo for a little chat, hm?”

The big one growled as they approached warily.

“Take a seat,” she said, allowing her jacket to shift just enough that the handle of her Colt was visible under the lights of the diner. They sat.

“So, you call us here,” the big guy said, and he had a distinctly Eastern European lilt to his words. “What do you want?” Peggy had positioned the eyes in front of the lab’s blackboard with the automat’s address, a time, and a written demand for the briefcase. Jack had added a smiley face.

“Oh, I didn’t know who to expect,” she said. “But you were the ones who showed, and now I know a little more about this whole…” she gestured expansively at her eyes.

Panama Hat looked constipated, while his companion twitched and darted him nervous looks.

“So, who’re these for?” she asked curiously. “They are a marvelous piece of engineering, so realistic.”

“I swear I don’t know,” the nervous one blurted out. “Th-They came to my lab last month, said they wanted the eyes for some rich guy overseas, said he was behind the Iron Curtain so it needed to be quiet.” He choked in pain as Panama Hat squeezed his wrist in one of his meaty hands.

“He misunderstands,” Panama Hat said, stone-faced. “I am secretary, picking up my employer’s commission.”

Peggy nodded thoughtfully. “I imagine that inspired the confusion that led to the loss of the package?”

“Now you know, it’s ours. Give it back,” Panama Hat said shortly.

“Not before we get back what you stole,” she said, eyes narrowing, but the big man just snorted angrily and inclined his head.

“We will give you, once we have package.”

“That’s not how an exchange works,” she replied. “You bring it here, and then we’ll see about you getting it back.

“It’s how I work.”

Besides him, the gargoyle-faced one was sweating in great rolling drops that wasn’t all attributable to the heat. Peggy frowned and leaned over the table.

“Is he alright?” she asked.

“Is fine. Just give me package,” Panama Hat said dismissively.

“I don’t think so, he looks like he needs medical care, or at least something to drink.”

“I- I don’t want anything,” Gargoyle stuttered out.

“Nonsense. Angie?”

“Shut up!” Panama Hat hissed, and Peggy leveled him with a glare that had flattened better men than him.

“Yeah, English?” Angie piped back.

“Some of that lemonade, if you please, for my guests.”

“You betcha.” She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the three of them alone in the dining room.

The moment the kitchen doors swung closed, Panama Hat burst into motion, Peggy only half a beat behind. Gargoyle yelped and cringed back into his seat while Peggy ducked Panama Hat’s lunge for her and rammed her shoulder up into his gut. They went careening down the length of the dining room and fetched up against the last booth. Peggy blocked his kicks and a punch, then threw a stool at him. She yanked her gun out and leveled it at him, but he rushed her with a roar and knocked the gun from her grip; it clattered and skidded over the floor. She grabbed a tray from the counter and bashed him over the head, then threw it, discus-like, at Gargoyle, who’d grabbed the metal box and was trying to leave. It clocked him hard between the shoulders and he fell to the ground with a cry.

“Oh, no you don’t!” she seethed, storming after him. He shot her a terrified look over his shoulder, scrabbling to his feet. She gave chase, right as Angie came running from the kitchen, lemonade in one hand and shock all over her face.

“Say, what on earth is going on here?”

Peggy changed tracks hurriedly and shoved her behind the counter. “Stay here!” She twisted around and, braced against the table, brought her knees up and snapped her legs straight as Panama Hat lunged for the door. He staggered into a table when her heels caught him under the ribs, but he wasn’t off-balance for long.

“Peggy, no! It’s too dangerous!” Angie shrieked, gripping Peggy’s arm as she tried to wriggle free.

“He’s getting away! You must let go!” Peggy said sternly as Panama Hat dove out of the automat. As soon as Angie’s hands loosened, Peggy raced outside after him into the street, but was only fast enough to see a black car take off from the curb and squeal off uptown. She panted a moment longer, watched another car peel away from the shadows and head off in the same direction. Peggy let out a deep sigh and rolled her shoulders.

By the time she slipped back into the automat, Angie turned on the radio to some late night jazz and was briskly up righting the chairs and tables that had been toppled in the chaos. Daniel had come out of the kitchen and was winding up the mikes taped under the booths.

Angie grinned at her and wiggled her eyebrows. “How’s that, English?”

Peggy smiled fondly. “Perfect timing, excellent naturalism, honestly, Angie, you deserve a medal. Thank you for letting us use your place of business.”

Angie waved her hands. “Oh, hon, you did me a favor. Night shifts are a real drag, but this was fun!”

Peggy helped push the furniture back in pace, and while Angie went to grab a mop for the spilled lemonade, Peggy hitched up against the stool closest to Daniel. “What do you think?”

“Well,” he said, spooling up the wires. “If that man’s a secretary, then I’m a ballerina.”

“I’d pay to see you in pink tulle, I’m sure it’d be quite fetching,” she said, grinning.

“Stop it, you’re making me blush,” he said, bone dry.

They finished cleaning up then swung back to the office to drop off the tapes for logging. the phone rang then, and Greeley whistled at them.

“It’s Thompson,” he said and handed the receiver to Peggy.

“Guess where I am?” Jack said quietly.

“If you tell me you’re tied up in a warehouse somewhere, you will have lost me five dollars to Daniel,” she said.

“Well, tell Sousa to cough it up,” he replied.  “I’m in the Upper East Side, in the sixties. “

“Interesting, and that is—?”

“Yep,” Jack popped his p’s and settled into a satisfied silence. The Soviet Union consulate had closed itself in a huff in ’48, and pulled out of the United States completely, but there were still certain power players who kept a presence stateside. The Upper East Side Lenox Hill neighborhood was especially notable for its presence of many Soviet proxies. Jack had followed the two back to one such building, and noted that Gargoyle, at least, seemed to be a reluctant accomplice.

“A little short-sighted, isn’t it,” Peggy said, biting her lip when Jack groaned. Daniel looked up and flicked a crumpled napkin at her.

“I like it when the perps are dumb,” Jack said. “Makes my job easier.” He was quiet for a moment. “Light just went out. I think they’ve turned in for the night.”

Peggy nodded absently. “Alright. I’ll send someone out to take over.”

“Sounds good. See you.”

 

The lights snapped on and three groans in harmony rose from under the lab tables.

“Wake wakey,” Greeley called amiably.

“Time s’it?” Jack grit out hoarsely, pulling himself to his feet and shaking out his jacket, which had been serving as a pillow on the otherwise hard linoleum floor.

“About quarter til 10,” Greeley said. “Wing and Sasser have movement on the eyes.”

“Ugh,” Peggy grumbled, scraping her curls out of her face and mouth. “What about the hospital?”

“Secret service is moving the secretary to a different floor, and we’ve got _eyes_ on the doctor,” Greeley said blandly, then grinned when Daniel sat up and glared at him. “I had Martha pick up some coffee and bagels on her way in, it’s in the pantry.”

“You know, aside from the back ache, that might have been the nicest sleep I’ve had since the damn heat wave started,” Daniel remarked, wincing as a series of pops sounded from his straightening spine.

“I’d bring my camp bedroll down here for the rest of it, except the chemicals give me weird dreams,” Jack agreed, staggering off to duck his head under the sink.

They ate a quick breakfast in the pantry while going over the plan of action. Martha and Greeley had scrounged up some rough notes based on the events and clues of the past day, and they had a name for Gargoyle at least—Dr. Erick Krowicki, who ran a biomechanics laboratory at Columbia. He had a daughter, who had suspiciously disappeared only two days before he had himself gone missing last week. The timing coincided with the arrival of the Soviet Union contingent in town for an international summit with UN leaders.

“Sounds like a possible hostage as well,” Daniel mused. “Explains why Krowicki’s working with them.”  

“Well, whoever these Russians are, they know we’re onto them, so they’ll be rushing,” Jack warned as they checked their gear and stocked up on ammunition. “They’ll be desperate.”

“That’s how I like them,” Peggy replied.

“I like them a little less,” Daniel added. “Smaller chance of being shot, all around.”

“I hate to tell ya, bud, you’re going with Carter, guns are a given,” Jack said, clapping his shoulder. “Last time I went with her to the corner grocers for a bottle of pop and came out chasing Greek anarchists.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Jack, they were hardly armed,” Peggy said, and tucked a spare clip of bullets into her pockets.

Jack just raised his eyebrow, as if saying, ‘see what I mean?’ She heroically resisted the urge to stamp on his foot. He smirked at her as if knowing her struggle and skipped ahead out of the office before she could change her mind.

 

“It’s now or never, Daniel,” Peggy said cheerfully. Daniel scowled as he swung his legs up onto the hospital gurney and handed over his crutch to be stowed away in some obscured corner.

“I’ve lost one body part already, please make sure I don’t lose another one,” he grumbled. “If that scalpel gets anywhere near my face, forget the mission, I’m taking them down, with or without the confession.”

“Think positive,” Jack suggested. “You’d get an eyepatch, and then you’d really be a pirate.”

“Get this guy out of here,” Daniel told Peggy. She patted him on the shoulder and then nudged Jack out of the operating theatre. The waiting room was even emptier than last they’d been there—secret service gave them both tiny nods, looking even more stone-faced than last night, as they headed for the ground floor.

Unlike the floor they’d come from, the lobby was a riotous mess of patients and staff; Jack took a seat against the wall and swiped a copy of _Life_ magazine. Peggy lingered in the opposite corner and pulled a compact from her purse to touch up her lipstick and keep an eye on the door via the mirror’s reflection. Wing and Sasser were tailing their mark from up town, and would cover the back entrance once the target had entered the hospital. All that was left to do was wait for Panama Hat to arrive and see who he was working with—easy as pie.

 

Fifteen minutes later, as Peggy swung her fists at Panama Hat with all her might, she reminded herself that easy was not something that often occurred in her life.

“You—are—under—arrest,” Jack was shouting at the orderly who’d met Panama Hat at the door and led them into the elevator for the fifth floor. “Now _stay there_.” He thrust the man against the elevator doors and handcuffed him. “Marge, how ya doin’?”

Peggy grunted as Panama Hat knocked her off balance and into the elevator wall. “It’s a little tight in here,” she said. Jack shoved her back on balance and she rammed her shoulder into Panama Hat.

“You will regret this,” Panama Hat growled, his accent thickening with his outrage.

“Let me stop you right there, buddy,” Jack said. “You’re on American soil, caught red-handed in a plot to turn the Secretary of Defense into a spy camera for Mother Russia. You really think we’ll be feeling bad about any of this?”

The elevator dinged open. A woman and her son paused in the act of stepping into the elevator carriage.

“Sorry, we’re full up,” Peggy said apologetically, and used the distraction to knee Panama Hat in the solar plexus. He bent double and she smashed the case of eyes down on the back of his head. He dropped to the floor like a sack of stones. The boy stared and sucked on his lollipop thoughtfully. His mom took a deliberate step backward as the doors slid closed.

“Geez, Marge, show a little restraint, why don’t you? Think of the children,” Jack said, raising his eyebrow as the elevator continued up.

“Oh please, that child’s a New Yorker,” she snorted, and shook her hair back from her face. “Give me your spare cuffs, and let’s see how Daniel’s doing.”

 

Daniel was, in fact, in the act of blocking a scalpel to his face with a steel tray. The surgeon, a tall, average looking man was attacking with a disturbing disregard for the Hippocratic Oath. Peggy clocked him as the doctor they’d seen in the waiting room last night. There were two other people in the room—the assisting surgeon was crumpled in one corner, out cold, while a nurse was pressed as far into the opposite wall as possible, clutching the walls and watching the scene in a horrified stupor

“A little help here,” Daniel grit out as Peggy and Jack hurried into the operating theatre. They’d handed over the other two captives to secret service who were only too happy to take over.

“Drop your weapon!” Jack bellowed, bringing up his own gun.

The doctor twitched briefly, but that was all it took. Daniel broke his assailants grip on the scalpel and yanked him off balance just enough to grab the back of his head and smash it against the operating table. The doctor sprawled to the ground. Peggy walked up and knelt primly on his back to cuff him.

“We done here?” Daniel panted, collapsing onto his back and cradling his sprained wrist.

“I’m ready to call it a day,” Peggy agreed. “And see? No one was shot, Jack.”

“Yet,” he said darkly, and grinned when she elbowed him in the ribs.

 

Jack hung up the phone and trotted over from the front counter, nudging the doctor with his foot. “Police are on their way, and secret service has just confirmed that the secretary has been taken away and is now recuperating in a secure location.”

“And the eyes?” Peggy asked.

Jack grinned and waggled the box. He popped it open to reveal the two canisters, which were empty but for two painted ping-pong balls.

“Greeley said that Stark’s friend’ll be coming down to take a look at it back at the lab. Meanwhile, they just picked up my briefcase and Krowicki’s daughter from a townhouse on 67th street. They’re taking her down to the precinct to meet with him. She’s all right, a little shaken up and dehydrated, but nothing too bad,” he told them.

“Well, good,” Peggy said, relieved. “That’s one less thing to worry about until next week.”

“You mean you aren’t coming back to work this weekend?” Jack asked, grinning.

“ _I_ was never supposed to be within fifty yards of either of you until Monday,” Daniel reminded them, and Peggy patted his arm fondly as they headed out to meet with the cops.

“If you can bear with me for a few more days, I have a far more pleasant proposal to make for spending the rest of this weekend.”

 

The breeze was delightful, a cool revelation against Peggy’s sun-warmed skin. For the first time in a week, she didn’t mind being outside in broad daylight, not when the beach leached away the worst of the city heat, and Howard’s portable mini-bar was supplying her with ice cold Mai-Tai after Mai-Tai.

“Peggy?” Daniel mumbled.

“Mmm?”

“I take back every bad thing I ever said about Stark,” he said with deep satisfaction. He was sprawled bonelessly in a lounge chair besides her, gently baking his limbs and torso to an even bronze.

She held out her drink and they clinked glasses without looking.

“Hey, you two,” Jack shouted from the waterline, his voice nearly drowned out by the thrumming rush of ocean. He had been running in and out of the surf all morning with the manic enthusiasm of a golden retriever. “You really gonna lie there all day?”

“What’s he so excited about?” Peggy muttered.

“ _Navy_ ,” Daniel sniffed derisively, then yelped when ocean water spattered all over the two of them.

“Ugh, _Jack,”_ Peggy protested, lifting her glass up and away from where he was shaking himself like a dog.

“Go away,” Daniel ordered, prodding him with his cane. “Go. Swim. Fight the sharks. Leave me alone.”

“You two are such lumps,” Jack marveled, arms akimbo as he stood over them. “All work at work, and no play at play.”

“We brought you a playmate to keep you entertained, go bother her,” Peggy said, waving him away.

He barked with laughter. “Alright, alright. I’ll go up into the house, see if she needs any help.”

There were sounds the footsteps crunching away from them, and then blissful peace once more. Peggy adjusted her wide-brimmed sun hat a little lower and prepared to doze off pleasantly when there was another interruption.

“English! You got a gentleman caller on the phone!” Angie hollered.

“Tell them to leave a message,” Peggy shouted back.

Another few minutes of silence, and then, from much closer, “You better come and take it, Pegs. Jack’s on the line and I can’t tell if he’s about to cry or dance a jig.”

Peggy opened her eyes with a sigh and sat up. Angie, with her curls wrapped up in a red kerchief and dressed in a jaunty two-piece polka-dot bathing suit, looked covetously at her lounge chair.

“Daniel,” Peggy said, but he grunted and flapped his hand at her dismissively. She sighed again and hauled herself out of the chair, which Angie gleefully swooped in on. Up the beach was the patio of the sprawling Stark beach bungalow, and in the open doorway, Jack was just visible, receiver pressed to his ear.

“… sir. Sir… Yes, sir… Yes, that’s—thank you sir… Yes, she’s right here.” Jack spotted her and thrust the receiver to her. She gave him a questioning look, but Angie was right; his expression was a little hard to parse.

“Hello?” she said.

“Good job on those peepers,” Colonel Phillips said. “We’ve now got secret service and DoD owing us favors, and that’s how I like it.”

“Well, couldn’t let you down, sir,” she replied. Jack waggled his eyebrows at him and she looked at him as if he were crazy. “Sir, if I may be so bold, what exactly did you tell Agent Thompson? Only he looks about ready to pop.”

The colonel snorted. “You sure about that one?” he asked dryly. When Peggy just smiled into the receiver, he sighed. “Alright. I was just telling him that the proposal went through.”

She blinked. “The proposal? _Our_ proposal?”

“That’s right,” he said, his gruff voice sounding unusually cheerful. “Congress is ratifying the charter on Wednesday. Stark says he’s getting the blueprints finalized, and we can break ground by the end of the year. You ready to join us here?”

Peggy looked up and caught Jack’s narrow-eyed look.

“Oh, sure,” she said. “We’ve been up to our _eyeballs_ preparing for SHIELD.”

He threw up his hands and groaned. She grinned.

“We’ll see you in DC, Colonel.”

 

 

 


End file.
